


A Series of One-Shots

by 221b_ee



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Newt Scamander, Backstory, But let's be real there cannot be too many of those, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Gen, Panic Attacks, also what on earth happened in the distant future?, hypothetically canon compliant, mentions of child abuse, oneshots, unfortunately made tea, we need more of those headcanons so i wrote one, yet another one of those fics where Newt takes Credence in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8945341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_ee/pseuds/221b_ee
Summary: Here's how it works: you comment two numbers between 1 and 100 and one between 1 and 40, for instance 67, 43, 12. I go to to corresponding book, page, and line (thus, 67th book, 43rd page, 12th line). I then write a oneshot based on that line and post it here. Alternatively, feel free to suggest your own prompts (but keep it either T or G lol).This whole thing is incredibly Credence-centric; I make no apologies.#5 - 14, 42, 6 "...entirely unlike tea."





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 87, 12, 38 - 'This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,' Venus and Adonis, Shakespeare
> 
> Yeah this prompt kind of got away from me. This is what happens what happens when I write at three in the morning, lol.

Newt opens his eyes, suddenly aware of the real world and confused as to why. A glance at his watch reveals the time, 12:38 am. He's only been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Why had he woken up, then? 

It hadn't been a nightmare. He'd been having an excellent dream. He couldn't remember what it was about, but thinking about it gave him a good feeling and he had evidently been enjoying it. He doubts, then, that that was it. A look around shows that there's no one else in his room, no weird noises ringing out. His alarm is still set to go off at 6 30, not that he really needs it after waking up at the same time for the last ten years. Why on earth had he woken up? 

He's completely awake now and he knows he won't fall back asleep for quite a while, based on previous experience, so he decides to go make himself a mug of cocoa, careful not to wake up Credence, who is sleeping in the next room, and maybe do a quick walk around the case to make sure everyone is all right. He's sure they're fine, but it never hurts to be cautious, and it isn't like he really has anything better to be doing at one in the morning, other than sleep, of course. 

His walk through the case doesn't show anything to be wrong. Nearly all of his animals are asleep, except for a few nocturnal ones like the mooncalves, which is a good sign. Generally his creatures sense danger better than he can. Infinitely more relaxed and with his empty mug in hand, he heads back to his room to lay back down and try to fall back asleep. 

He pauses just before he pulls open his door, glancing to the right where Credence's room lies. He doesn't want to wake the boy up... but he'll be quiet. 

He extinguishes his wandlight and ever so carefully turns the knob, then gently, slowly pushes the door in, being careful not to make a sound. Credence is sitting up on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, very obviously awake. It's clear that he's been there for a little while, that it wasn't Newt that woke him up, which was his initial thought, but the half second of relief fades away quickly. 

"Credence?" he asks, more of a whisper than anything. "Are you okay?" He hates the phrase, it's such a cliche and really probably doesn't do anything worth doing - definitely doesn't, he revises - because Credence is clearly not all right, he's very obviously not okay. 

"I'm fine," Credence says, but his voice is tight and it sounds like he has to choke the words out. Newt isn't quite sure how to proceed - people are difficult, and he never knows exactly what to do... he supposes that Credence seems more like one of his creatures than ever, though, now, and he does know what to do in that case. 

"Can I come over?" he asks, voice quiet and gentle. Credence sort of jerks his head, which Newt supposes could be construed as a nod. He sits down on the bed next to the boy, not saying anything, just being (hopefully) a calming presence. 

After a few minutes of silence, Credence speaks. 

"It was a nightmare," he says. "It was... it was her, she found me and... and she was angry that I ran away..." His voice trails off painfully. "I can still feel... on my back, just from the dream... I can feel where she..." 

Newt doesn't say anything. He isn't sure what to do, honestly. There really is no precedent with his creatures for this. The closest thing is when his rescues have been abused. He considers what he would do in that scenario. 

"Can I see your hand?" he asks finally. 

"Why?" Credence asks, and Newt's heart swells with pride. Tonight he's been communicative, volunteering information about himself, about his nightmare, questioning Newt instead of being blindly obedient... this is progress and he is so proud of how far Credence has come in the last couple of weeks. 

"I'm going to hold it. That's all. Not all touch... it doesn't have to hurt, and physical contact can be comforting. You can say no if you don't feel comfortable, though," Newt says. He's not certain that this is the best idea at all, but it's worth a shot. He's also not sure how blunt he should be about what he's doing, but his rule has always been that honesty is the best policy. 

After a moment, Credence slowly holds his hand out, rebalancing to support his head with just the other hand. Newt takes it awkwardly, not quite sure how to proceed. He takes a breath, reminds himself that this is just like dealing with a wounded beast, then clasps Credence's hand in one of his and with the other rubs his thumb in circles across the palm, gently massaging the tension out of it. Slowly, infinitesimally, Credence relaxes. 

Eventually, Newt helps Credence lay back down, covering him back up. Just before he leaves, he hears a tired, almost-asleep voice. 

"I'm sorry if I woke you up..." Credence mumbles, barely understandable. "I think I yelled a bit... but I didn't mean to... wake you up..." 

"Don't worry about it," Newt says gently, and closes the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 31, 30, 16 - '...pressure.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 31, 30, 16 - '...pressure.' 
> 
> Not much to work with lol. Numbers suggested by (Guest). Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, maximum thank you to everyone who reviewed and/or suggested three numbers! Y'all are great :D

Newt took a deep breath, trying to reorient himself and calm down the static in his head. All the noise was pushing into his brain, and it felt like he was going to explode with the pressure of it. He hadn't had a chance to calm down and just _breathe_ all day. 

It had been a bad day for Credence, starting off with nightmares and moving into no less than two panic attacks on the space of twelve hours. Not just anxiety attacks, either. Full blown panic, that frozen look the boy always seemed to get, and, once, the obscurial taking over (although Newt had managed to get a handle on it quickly, thank goodness). And Newt didn't begrudge him the trouble it meant, he didn't blame him, of course, even after it threw the whole day off and put all of his creatures in edge and meant that he didn't get any work done in the book at all, but it was terribly stressful. 

Newt had never been a people person. He had never been good at small talk, never quite been comfortable making eye contact or standing in a crowd of people. He was happiest by himself or with just a couple of people he knew well, and found himself unable to relax completely otherwise. And that, that made it incredibly difficult to spend all day every day keeping an eye on Credence and making sure that he was okay. 

He couldn't help worrying, too, that he wasn't doing a good job at it. It was difficult to know what he should do, how best to help the boy without setting him off or accidentally making things worse. There was a very fine line between a good day and a bad one and they frequently found themselves falling over to the bad side. Newt was gentle, and he was careful never to make the same mistake twice, but he couldn't help but think every so often that if he thought a little more before he spoke, if he kept a better eye in the boy, if he just did _better,_ that things wouldn't be so difficult. 

It was a lot of pressure, that was really what it boiled down to. It was long and it was difficult and it was all on his shoulders, and it was above all things heavy. He could carry it, but it was difficult and he was being pushed down every second. 

But he would do it. He would do it as long as he could, and hopefully by then the pressure would have eased up. He would do it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 53, 92, 7 - '...Were out in the carriage to ask a constant stream of questions...' The Penguin Book of Ghost Stories, J A Cuddon 
> 
> As suggested by TheTokenHuman

Credence thought that it was very possible that his arm was being half-pulled out of its socket as he was being dragged down the street. He didn't mean to have to be dragged, and he was doing his best to keep up, but there was so much to see. There were dozens and dozens of stalls, selling everything he could think of, and probably fifty things that he couldn't. 

"Ma, what's... what's a cal... calamary?" he asked. Mary Lou made sure that all of her children could read the Bible, and she had just taught Credence how to read at least a year ago. He was good at it, too, he thought, able to sound out words like 'commandment' and 'faithful' all by himself. 

"Keep up, Credence, and stop asking so many questions," said his ma, an irritated edge to her voice that let Credence know that he was walking on thin ice. "I've told you why Credence rhymes with obedience. Now behave." Credence tore his eyes away from a table selling brightly colored ribbons, ribbons that he was sure his ma would call extravagant, a waste of good money. He was sure there couldn't be anything wrong with just looking, though, unless it kept him from keeping up. 

At eight years old, however, Credence could not quite keep himself from glancing up again after a few minutes, and soon he was back to where he had been before, dragging along behind Mary Lou, barely keeping up. And eventually the questions made their debut once more - he knew it was a bad idea, but he he couldn't stop himself, he just wanted to know so badly. 

"Ma, what's that over there, with all the feathers?" he said. Mary Lou stopped in her tracks so quickly that he nearly walked into her, trailing behind as he had been. 

"Credence, this is your second warning. If you misbehave one more time, I will whale you into tomorrow when we get home. Now close your mouth and keep up with me! We're nearly there," she said, and Credence knew she meant business. 

 

After another minute or two, he had a thought. The root of the problem was that he couldn't stop looking at all of the wonders around himself, and that made him slow down and stare and want to ask questions. Well, the solution seemed fairly obvious - he would just close his eyes! If he couldn't see the problem, then it wouldn't exist. He shut his eyes as soon as he thought of it. 

 

It worked very well, too. With his hand in Mary Lou’s to guide him, as long as he stepped carefully on the cobblestoned street, he could do it easily. Occasionally he would step in a puddle or in a particularly deep bit of mud, but after it happened a fee times he found he didn't mind it so much, and he was rather pleased with himself for thinking of so clever a solution. 

 

Suddenly Credence crashed into something very large and very soft. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting in an unfortunately deep puddle of murky water, soaking through his clothes and covering them with filth - it would take ages to scrub that out, he was sure. Near him sat a woman, clearly what he had collided with, along with a number of boxes and bags. 

 

“Credence!” Mary Lou’s voice was sharp as he'd ever heard it. “Look what you've done!” An embarrassed blush rose in Credence's cheeks. He pulled himself out of the puddle and started picking up the woman's packages. After a moment, she joined him, and in a minute they were all off the ground and back in her arms. She hurried away quickly without a word. 

 

Credence didn't dare speak or look anyone in the eye - he was too ashamed of himself to meet the woman's eyes, and somewhat afraid if what he would find in his ma’s. It became unavoidable when Mary Lou turned to him, lifted his chin, and said “You know what I have to do, Credence, to keep you from becoming a horrible, hellbound sinner, don't you, Credence? I can't believe this is how you repay me. I took you in, rescued from the hands of your filthy witch of a mother. I try to teach you - and this is how you repay me? Chin up, Credence.” Her voice was smooth, dangerous. She wasn't shouting - she never shouted at her most furious points - but Credence knew how angry she was with him. He felt a pang of shame. She was right, he knew. But just prison to do better would not be enough. He had to make payment for his sins. 

 

A slap across the side of his face, one ringing Crack later, and he found himself on the ground again, eyes full of tears he knew he didn't deserve to shed. He picked himself up, took his mother's hand, and, eyes to the ground, walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, backstory! 
> 
> Well, maybe yay is the wrong word, but yeah. Backstory! 
> 
> Anyways according to the 221b_ee Series of Events Mary Lou didn't actually start belting her children until Credence was about 10 (and Chastity 11, and Modesty 2 and not yet adopted). Right around then was when she started being active with the New Salemers. I figure, she'd always been bad bad bad about Credence's accidental childhood magic and pretty abusive, but then when she joined the New Salemers (v small back then) she kinda went to hell. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, or if you disagree or have a better headcanon. My opinions keep changing and updating themselves so I'm big on hearing yours :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 89, 36, 5 - '"...midsummer." He leaned down, shook Durnik's hand and...' Guardians of the West, book one of the Malloreon, by David Eddings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Won't be posting for a few days, guys, sorry. Have a quick vignette as a consolation. 
> 
> I figured, we had a glimpse into the past; how about a couple of years onto the future?

89, 36, 5 - '"...midsummer." He leaned down, shook Durnik's hand and...' Guardians of the West, book one of the Malloreon, by David Eddings

 

The sun shone brightly, skies blue and clear, conditions perfect for flying. Credence had one leg swung over his broom - he had never gotten the hang of apparition. He didn't mind, frankly. He hated apparition and he would be glad if he never had to do it again. 

 

Around him stood his family (it had been a long time since he had called himself a Barebone). Jacob and Queenie, Modesty, Tina and of course Newt, Newt who had brought him to this point and Newt who trusted him enough to send him away on his own to gather information about yet another obscure creature Newt needed to know more about for his book. He trusted him, Credence, to do this! 

 

And Credence would do it. He would do it and do it well. And when he came back, he knew what would be waiting for him - and they were standing around him now, as he got ready to kick off. 

 

And that, he thought, was why he was able to leave - because he knew he could always come back.


	5. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14, 42, 6 - "...entirely unlike tea."

Newt snapped awake. The alarm clock was ringing, loud and noisy and exactly the same as it was nearly every morning at 6:30, no different today than it had been in years. 

He sat up and reached out to turn it off. In the space of probably three seconds, he had gone from deeply asleep to wide awake, as awake as he'd be at any point during the day. It was a necessary skill he'd had to culture as a magizoologist. You never know what bump in the night might spell disaster, and waking up quickly (as well as falling back to sleep equally as fast) had saved his life on at least three occasions. 

He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, thinking about the coming day and what needed to be done, then stood up, dressed, grabbed his great blue weighted overcoat, and faced the day. 

He found Credence to be already awake, sitting quietly in his bed and reading a tome on the history of magical botany. He was still in his pajamas, and he started when he saw Newt, but Newt was pleased that he relaxed almost immediately. It was a good sign. 

Credence stuck a bookmark in his book when Newt entered the room, setting it down and unfolding his long frame to stand up. 

"How long have you been awake?" Newt asked. 

"Not long," he said, brushing a strand of long hair out of his eyes. "I only just picked up the book." 

"Are you enjoying it? You've gotten pretty far into it already," Newt said, pleased. Recently Credence had gotten into reading everything Newt would give him. He seemed to particularly like histories of sciences. Newt preferred reading about the sciences more himself, but he was glad that Credence had found something that he could really get into on his own. 

"It's alright," Credence said. "Thanks for lending it to me." 

"Absolutely," Newt grinned. "Anything I've got, you can read." Credence nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Want to help me out with chores before breakfast?" Credence nodded; he helped out every morning, and it had become fairly routine. They had divided up the jobs to be done, Credence taking on almost as much as Newt now, which Newt was proud of. 

Credence threw a bag of all-purpose feed over his shoulder and headed out while Newt loaded the wheelbarrow. Mostly, Credence fed the animals who had all-purpose for breakfast, while Newt took the ones who had more specialized feeding or who had to be fed in an odd way. It usually took about a half hour for both of them to finish, but Credence was done in less than five minutes that morning. He'd woken up early and gotten almost everything done before Newt's alarm had gone off. 

He headed back to the shed as soon as he thought Newt would be gone. He needed to make every minute count for what he had in mind. 

Meanwhile, Newt worked his way around the case, feeding each creature in each habitat (and being careful not to be hugged by the squid - he appreciated their gratitude but the feel of their tentacles felt wrong in an almost painful way against his skin). He oved his morning routine, checking up on each animal as he went, making sure that the mooncalf who had sprained his ankle was doing better today, watching for a moment the baby graphorn - he couldn't help being a little worried over her, no matter how good of a shape she was in. 

When finally the wheelbarrow was empty, he turned around and headed back to the shed, his stomach growling. The thought of a hot breakfast was quite endearing, and he would really relish his cup of tea - a cup of tea in the morning was a must, and his favorite part of breakfast. In fact, he thought, he could almost smell it as he approached the shed. 

He opened the door and was surprised to see Credence sitting at the table behind a plate of toast and eggs - not, two plates of toast and eggs, and a cup of tea by the second one.

"I, um, I made you breakfast," Credence said, sounding nervous. "I know it's really simple, but it's hot, and it's fresh, I only just made it, and I didn't give you any of the burned bits, and I know how much you like tea so I made that for you too and I'm really sorry about not asking first but I wanted to surprise you and I hope you don't mind -" 

"Credence!" Newt interrupted, a massive grin spreading across his face. "That smells delicious and it looks like you did a wonderful job. Thank you so much!" Credence relaxed, not completely, but he stopped rambling, and after a minute he - not so much smiled, those were rare, but he bit his lip, which was almost the same thing for him. 

Newt sat down at the table in front of the plate with the tea behind it and took a bite of the eggs, which were light and fluffy and delicious and tasted superb. His eyebrows flew up into his hairline and he Mmmm!'d at Credence, who looked down at his plate and turned red from the unspoken compliment. 

The tea he expected to not be as good, since as far as he knew Credence had little or no experience brewing it, but he still expected it to be alright. 

He was very wrong. 

He took a sip of the tea and immediately his eyes opened wide, nearly bugging out of his head as his face contracted and seemed to crush in on itself towards his mouth. With some effort, he straightened it out, and sort of grimaced at Credence - Credence thought perhaps it was supposed to be a smile, but he wasn't quite sure. 

"Is it... is it okay?" he asked, worried. Newt nodded vigourously, then held up one finger and all but leapt for the door. After a moment of nerve-wracking indecision, Credence followed him. 

He found Newt outside spitting vigorously behind a tree. He was being fairly noisy about it, Credence thought, which accounted for the fact that he didn't notice Credence coming up behind him, arms wrapped around himself. He jumped when he turned around and saw him, and gave Credence a sort of sheepish grin. 

"Ah... hi," Newt said. 

"Sorry... about the tea," Credence muttered. 

"Oh, don't worry about it," Newt said. "Would you be offended... well, would you think it rude if I made another pot?" Credence shook his head, wishing something awful that he had tasted the tea before he'd given it to Newt. 

"So how exactly did you make it?" Newt asked back at the shed as he poured... he supposed it was technically tea... down the drain and filled the kettle up with water to boil. 

"I did it the same way I always see you do it in the morning - boiled the water, ground the leaves, and dumped them in the kettle. Then I took it off the burner and poured some into a cup," said Credence, looking determinedly at his hands. 

"And how long, exactly, was it in the cup?" Newt asked. 

"Not more than ten minutes," Credence said wretchedly. "Should I have let it steep longer?" 

"Er... not quite," said Newt. "This kind of tea happens to be especially strong... I only let it steep for two or three minutes at most." 

"Oh," said Credence. "I'm really sorry about that." 

"Don't worry about it," Newt said. "Now you know for next time." Credence didn't look like he felt any better. "Think of it this way - imagine everyone's faces when they hear this story." He didn't smile, of course, but he did glance up and meet Newt's eye for a moment. 

"I... If you don't mind, I'm going to go read some," Credence said, and made his escape. Newt grinned after him.


End file.
